In the kitchen, Lam Pham transformed into a model little homemaker, turned on the faucet, and began carefully washing the dishes.
Even though zombies had appeared and the world had fallen into an apocalypse, as someone who knew how to take care of himself, a proper little man at home, he still had to wash the dishes clean and sparkling. That's the only way to call it "labor."
"Done."
Under his diligent hands, the porcelain bowls shone bright and clean. That made him quite happy. He sorted the dishes neatly and smiled with satisfaction.
He enjoyed working—only through labor could he feel useful.
Holding the cleaver, he looked outside through the peephole. The zombie formerly known as "Wang, the property manager," was still swaying outside the door. No sudden movements—very dull and eerily calm. It gave off the illusion of: "I could handle a hundred of these zombies easily."
"Tch, so cunning," Lam Pham muttered. "Now even zombies know how to fake being harmless to lure people out. If even the undead are deceptive, what's left of honesty in this world?"
If the zombie could talk, it would probably be mad: Damn you, I don't make noise because I'm resting!
Dumbass.
Click.He unlocked the security door.
"Wang, the property manager, it's not even time to collect fees yet. All these years, I've always been proactive—you've never had to chase me." Lam Pham stood at the entrance, opening the door to draw the zombie's attention.
Wang, now fully zombified, was even more aggressive than before. He'd always been temperamental when alive—now he was downright vicious.
"Raargh!"
The zombie snarled menacingly. Compared to other zombies, Wang looked even more hideous. Veins bulged on his neck, and his eyeballs looked like they were about to fall out.
He lunged at Lam Pham.
"Wang, don't attack me."
But the zombie didn't listen.
Lam Pham shook his head and swung the cleaver. Swish. The blade sliced cleanly through, separating the head from the body. Blood spurted everywhere.
[Zombie slain][Points earned: +1]
His Strength stat at 12 felt noticeably more powerful. Compared to the start, it was much easier to land fatal blows.
Another point earned.
He still thought Strength was the most practical stat to invest in.
He looked at the three corpses on the ground—Lieu Vi Vi, the programmer, and now Wang the property manager. He hadn't dealt with the bodies yesterday, and now they were starting to stink.
This was a shared area. He'd always valued the cleanliness of public spaces, and it was important to keep things in order.
Rotting smells would pollute the environment. Neighbors might start complaining.
"They'll probably say, 'Whose house smells like stinky tofu? It's awful!'"
Time to take action.
He pressed the elevator button.
The old elevator creaked to life—it often broke down, being an old residential building full of elderly folks.
The doors opened.
Inside sat a zombie in a wheelchair. A middle-aged man. Lam Pham recognized him—he'd heard about this guy since he was little.
He had been a delinquent from a young age—did drugs, stole electric cables. Once got electrocuted and miraculously survived, but lost all four limbs. Ever since, he could only live in a wheelchair.
"Uncle Truong, out sunbathing today? I'm just moving some stuff downstairs. Won't take long," Lam Pham greeted with a smile.
Though Uncle Truong was a zombie now, the man had never bothered anyone. Still seemed rather friendly.
Back in the day, parents loved to use Uncle Truong as a cautionary tale: "If you don't study hard, you'll end up like him!" Scared many kids into studying diligently.
Lam Pham had never looked down on anyone. Whenever he saw Uncle Truong, he'd nod in greeting.
He dragged the three corpses into the elevator, squeezing them in. Uncle Truong's wheelchair was pushed into a corner. Black blood stained the floor—he'd have to clean that later too.
As the elevator doors slowly closed, Uncle Truong, smelling blood and flesh, roared. The side wheels of the chair popped off and rolled onto a corpse. He tried to crawl and bite Lam Pham.
"Uncle Truong, you're still incorrigible even in death."
Lam Pham shook his head. Why be like this? Even if you turned into a zombie, as long as you didn't attack others, you'd be considered a good zombie.
Ground floor.
Lam Pham calmly moved the four bodies out, then looked up at the sky. The weather was nice—sunny and bright, but eerily quiet.
Before, the courtyard was full of old folks exercising, playing chess, drinking tea, gossiping.
Now, none of that.
He stuffed the four corpses into the dumpster. It was overflowing—couldn't even close the lid.
"Hope the sanitation workers still come by to clean up..."
With that done, he walked over to the fitness equipment and started working out—one foot forward, one foot back, moving rhythmically.
The whole residential complex was empty and quiet. Only Lam Pham was exercising.
"Where did everyone go?"
He pondered. With a zombie outbreak, surely there should be some signs of either the living or the dead. But not even a strand of hair could be seen.
Thirty minutes later...
"RAAARGH!"
A zombie suddenly staggered out from the stairs in the distance. Upon seeing Lam Pham, it let out a frenzied roar and charged like a predator.
"Aunty sanitation worker, you too?"
Lam Pham's face turned bitter. Without the sanitation worker, the trash would pile up.
She lunged.
Lam Pham slashed downward—direct hit. She collapsed.
"Aunty, the trash bins are getting full. Someone needs to take them away. But don't worry, as a responsible resident, I'll do my part."
He tossed her into the bin. Now it was really overfilled.
He felt no guilt. Killing a zombie that attacked him wasn't wrong.
After all, he had gone through nine years of compulsory education. He was a law-abiding citizen.
And he watched a lot of legal shows. Even Zhang San the legal guru once said: If your safety is at risk, you can defend yourself. It's not a crime—it's self-defense.
"Even the law's on my side. What's there to feel guilty about?"
As for Lieu Vi Vi...
He thought it over. "Yeah, that was preemptive self-defense due to perceived danger. Totally legit."
Having tidied everything up, he rode the elevator back up. On the second floor, he placed the wheelchair back outside Uncle Truong's apartment.
"Returning the item to its rightful place."
"One must always act properly."
Back home.
He grabbed a bucket of water and mop, cleaning up the bloody hallway. The stains looked disgusting—made the place feel like a haunted house.
As the "business owner" of this place, he had to keep things tidy.
After some time, the water turned crimson. He flushed it away and wiped off the blood in the elevator. He even cleaned off those pesky sticker ads that people always stuck near the door or on the walls.
He'd always been the one to clean those.
No one suffered from it, but someone had to do it.
He looked at the clean hallway, the shiny elevator, and smiled with contentment.
"Finally done. Now I can get online—time to become an internet addict again."
"Hehe…"
He had long gotten used to living alone. Eating alone. Sleeping alone.
Family?That was something from long ago.
But it didn't matter. He still had his teddy bear to keep him company.
And lots of friendly netizens to chat with.